


Flooded

by railise



Category: Robin Hood BBC
Genre: Angst, Gen, Series 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-11
Updated: 2010-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-11 16:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/railise/pseuds/railise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin and a widowed villager remember their lost loves.  Set between 3x01 and 3x02.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was intended as a way of setting up why Robin would be readily pursuing Isabella in the time frame that he did. Although my own opinion is in his favor, I know a lot of people were bothered by it, and wanted to address a possible reason for his actions.
> 
> Written for [The Robin Appreciation Society](http://community.livejournal.com/robinsociety) in [The Robin Hood Intercomm Challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/rh_intercomm), at LiveJournal.

  
"When will it stop?" cried Much. He scuffed his boot miserably on the cave floor. "I'm tired of sitting in here."

Adding a short branch to their fire, John grunted an agreement. "We've missed one set of drop-offs already. We can't miss any more."

The rain continued to gush over the mouth of the cave, pounding Sherwood Forest and the rest of the area around Nottingham into a muddy soup. Robin, perched on a shelf-like ledge along the wall, heartily agreed with his friends' frustrations, but knew as well as they did that there was no arguing with Mother Nature. They'd been driven from their camp three days earlier, the ravine which made such a perfect hiding place making a perfect torrent in this weather. He hoped it would not be too damaged when they returned.

Just then, Allan burst in, clutching a trio of rabbits. "Oi, lads!" he grinned, despite being soaked clean through and covered in mud to his knees. "Who's hungry?"

Robin chuckled when Much's face lit up. "How did you manage to hunt?" the latter asked, already digging cooking utensils out of his pack.

Allan began to reply, probably concocting an outlandish yarn, but shook his head, instead. "Looks like their burrow flooded."

The men were all silent for a minute, realizing that the plight of the animals could very well repeat itself with their friends in the villages, or even themselves, if the rain did not relent soon.

Much was skinning the second rabbit and Allan was drying off by the fire, when Tuck returned from a scouting venture. Rivulets ran from his cloak, and he quickly removed it, laying it out in a vain effort; the air was too damp to accomplish much. As he went over beside Allan, holding his hands to the flames to warm them, he glanced at Robin. "There's a problem. The path past Ellie Hulme's cottage flooded out, and she's trapped. James Wainwright says he's not seen any smoke from her chimney in two days." The gang exchanged a concerned glance; Ellie lived alone in the cottage her husband had built outside of Locksley, right above the ravine into which Guy had thrown Robin a month earlier. If she needed help and the path was as bad as Tuck said, it would be nearly impossible to reach her.

"All right, let's go and see what we can do." Robin pulled on his cloak, and most of the others followed suit.

"But-- but, the rabbits!" protested Much.

"Bring them, and wrap up some of the firewood, too," Robin instructed. "And if we have any more bread, we'll take that, as well. She may not have eaten for a couple of days."

Clearly displeased, Much nonetheless did as he was told, aware that the young widow would likely need the food more than they did at the moment. She was about of an age with him and healthy, but it did not do to have even someone in peak condition going hungry. It happened all too often around Nottingham, and if they could fill even one stomach, they had made a difference. Once the provisions were securely wrapped in an oilskin and everyone was bundled as well as they could be, they set off.

It was slow going, with the ground as muddy as it was; while normally there was plenty of low foliage to grab onto, only flora with deep roots provided any kind of assistance. The rest was barely clinging to the muck, falling over or sliding away with the lightest touch, if it had not fallen away already. They were blinded by the water cascading from the heavens, and kept losing their footing; a journey which normally would only have taken a little over an hour wound up costing them nearly three.

Finally, they approached the humble cottage, which stood in a clearing along the edge of the cliff, but they were stopped by a current that had formed in front of the home. It was at least five feet wide, and had been there long enough to carve a shallow bed into the ground. This new stream was not deep, but it was swift and powerful, and they quickly realized that it would be foolish to try to wade it.

Cupping his hands around his mouth in an attempt to be heard over the thundering sounds of rain, Robin called, "_Ellie!_" He repeated the call twice, the final time with everybody joining in, before the cottage door opened and the woman in question peered out. They could barely see her, and it was probable that she could barely see them; however, they could tell that she was trying to yell back to them. The sound of her voice did not reach them, her words lost to the water.

"Let's toss the package to her," Allan suggested, squinting against the elements.

Much shook his head. "It's not secure; it's just folded, not tied, since it was too bulky with the wood and the food. It'll fall apart halfway over."

They glanced back at Ellie, who was yelling to them again; they still could not understand what she was saying.

Robin looked around, turning to study the edge of the forest. Tapping John on the arm, he gestured. "Hey, think you can move that big branch there?"

"Are you mad? Of course I can," the big man scoffed, the last word dying in his throat when he realized what Robin wanted him to do. His leader saw the comprehension on John's face, and nodded with as good a grin as he could muster in the downpour. "That is not a good idea, Robin. If you or the log slip, you'll be swept away. You've already gone over that cliff once; do you _really_ want to do so again?"

"What choice do we have?" Robin implored. "We cannot throw the supplies, or pass them over on a stick. Somebody has to take them across. We are not going to give up on her."

Tuck shrugged. "Robin's right; it is the only way."

Much anxiously studied their faces. "I'll take it."

"No," said Robin. "You are not a strong swimmer; if you do fall in, you haven't got a chance."

"And if _you_ fall in, you'll be sent over the cliff. Again. Just as John said."

Robin gave him a cheeky wink. "I have done so once and survived. Surely, I could manage the trick a second time."

"Hey, I think she's trying to tell us to go," Allan cut in. Everyone looked to Ellie, who, having apparently accepted that they could not hear her, was making lavish shooing motions.

"John, get the log," Robin said.

With a growl of annoyance, John nonetheless did as he was bade. Allan offered a hand, but backed off at his friend's dark look. The thing was unwieldy, but John managed to haul it up and over to where the others stood. He turned to Robin, but saw that he would not win the argument. "It's your fool head," he muttered, heaving the branch up and, with a grunt, across the new stream. It settled into the mud on other side, which appeared to be a blessing-- but which could easily become a curse, if the gooey foundation gave way.

Robin took the bundle from Much and went over to the makeshift bridge, testing its sturdiness before stepping up onto it. The outlaws had all trod numerous fallen trees during

their time in the forest, but never in conditions such as this. Although Robin would never admit as much, he was holding his own breath as he inched his way across, forcing himself to focus and relax. It could only have taken a minute or so for him to reach the other side; however, it felt like an eternity, and he let out a sigh of relief as he stepped down on the other side.

He had a smile on his face when he turned to Ellie, but it disappeared in surprise when she marched up to him and demanded, "What is wrong with you?"

"What?"

She was tiny, at least a foot shorter than himself and probably four stone lighter, though perhaps the rain helped her out by a pound or two, now that her woolen clothing was drenched. Despite her size, she was formidable, and he found himself taking a step back when she planted her hands on her hips and scowled up at him. "I was trying to tell you that the cliff is likely to give way, taking this house with it, and you should get as far away as possible. But you just _had_ to be the hero and come across anyway, didn't you?"

After a pause he suggested, "Why do I not just take you back across, and get you to safety?"

Ellie's hands dropped, and her whole personality seemed to droop with her shoulders. "I suppose I must go with you now," she murmured, so quietly that he almost missed it over the rain. Turning an anguished gaze on him, she added, "You, of all people, should understand."

And suddenly, he did. The pain in her gaze mirrored that in his own heart. "I'm sorry," he said, stricken.

Andrew, her husband, had been executed during the outlaws' fated journey to Acre. He had been a woodsman, and the sheriff's third-in-command, who was in charge during Vaizey and Gisborne's absence, accused Andrew of poaching for the villagers. The charges were true, which meant he should have lost a hand. Instead, he was used as an example, hanged in the castle courtyard in front of an audience.

Of the many things that had occurred as a result of their ill-fated venture to the Holy Land, Andrew's death was high on the list of things Robin felt responsible for. And now, Robin was preventing his widow from joining him.

Although he could sympathize, he could also not turn his back on her. "You know I cannot leave you here now."

"I know. Damn you." She turned and marched toward the cottage, sliding somewhat but not losing her footing altogether. "Let me gather a few things."

She had insisted that she did not blame the gang for being away, always chatting with them when they made deliveries to her. But Robin noticed that she had not invited him inside out of the rain while she collected her belongings, and while he knew at least some of the cause was her current upset, wondered if she did not hold a grudge-- even if she was unaware of the fact. She reappeared in minutes, a small bundle tied across her chest. His own bundle required both arms, so, with a sigh of regret, he set it down against her house. Much would never forgive him, but he had little choice.

They went over to the log bridge, and Robin once again tried it out before stepping onto it. Once he had his footing, he held out a hand and shifted back as she accepted it, placing a worn boot warily next to his. "Do not look down; just watch me. We'll be fine," he assured her, sliding slowly along the thick branch, Ellie following with him.

They were a couple of feet out over the water when the log suddenly shifted. Exclamations rang out from the outlaws, but the two endangered people were too caught up in attempting to maintain their balance to even make a noise. Ellie's fingers dug into his wrists where she had grabbed onto him, and her brown eyes were wild with fear when they met his. They finally steadied themselves, but Robin did not like the feel of the bridge beneath his feet; it felt wrong, not secure. Reaching an instant decision, he told her, "We need to go back."

"You want me to go _backward?_" she shrieked.

"Come on; we can do this. Slide one foot back... good! Now, the other..."

She regained her confidence, and soon they were halfway to their destination. That was when a series of vibrations in the branch told him that they were not going to make it.

There was nothing for it. "Hang on," he muttered, grabbing onto her and launching them both off of the log, seconds before it jerked free from the mud and was swept away. Robin twisted as they fell, taking the brunt of the impact on his bad shoulder; fortunately, it was lessened when they slid in the mud.

"Are you all right?" Ellie asked, scrambling to her feet and offering him a hand up.

Wincing against the ache in his shoulder, Robin nodded. He had not damaged it anew, merely exasperating the recent injury. "You?"

"I'm seriously muddy, but otherwise fine," she replied. After a pause, she said, "Thank you."

He raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought you'd not mind if we fell in."

"It's one thing to await death in the comfort of my home. It's another to tempt it, face-to-face."

He snorted in acknowledgement, and she smiled. He glanced over at the gang, and made an exaggerated shrugging motion. Obviously, it would be foolhardy to attempt another crossing now, and they had no means to communicate. Mimicking Ellie's earlier shooing gesture, he indicated that they should go back to the cave. Eventually, Allan, John and Tuck turned to go, but Much stayed put. There was nothing they could do, just standing there, and at least in the cave, they could dry off. Robin watched as Allan went back and patted Much on the shoulder.

"You may as well come inside. Looks like you'll be here awhile," Ellie noted, once the gang had left.

"Right. Go into the house that will probably fall with the cliff," Robin responded jokingly.

"Well, you could stay out here and catch pneumonia. Or, you could come inside and maybe have a chance to dry off before we fall. Suit yourself."

Conceding the point, he followed her back to the door. It would be nice not to be face-to-face with death, for once.


	2. Chapter 2

  
It was a good thing that they had packed food and firewood, as Ellie had run out of both. Her cottage was much like the others around the shire; a single room, with a bed in one corner and a chest at its foot, a table and basin off to the side of the hearth, rough shelves along a wall, and a pair of armchairs in front of the cold fireplace. While Robin built up a fire and started one of the rabbits cooking over it, his back to the room, she changed into dry clothing. When she was decent and the food was cooking, he accepted the change of clothes she offered him.

"You're about of a height with Andrew," she said evenly, as she handed the outfit to him. "He was broader, but it should do well enough until your own things are dry."

Gently, he accepted them. "Thank you." He studied her, wondering if he would be able to so freely share a dress of Marian's-- if he had one-- in a similar situation.

Ellie would not meet his gaze, mumbling, "'Tis nothing," before trading places with him to tend the rabbit whilst he changed.

He had to tighten the drawstring on the trousers more than it seemed was intended when they were made, but otherwise, everything fit well enough, as Ellie had expected. He hoped that she would not be too bothered to see him wearing her husband's clothes; if she appeared put out, he would make do with his own, drenched attire. Fortunately, other than a startled look when she initially turned away from the hearth, she was calm enough.

The meat finished cooking soon afterward, and they ate in relative silence, each lost in their own thoughts. It was not until Ellie dug around in the chest that sat at the foot of her bed and produced a bottle that the conversation picked up.

"I'd been saving this for a special occasion, and figure being flooded into my house is fairly special."

Glad to be pulled from his musings, Robin inquired, "What is it?"

"Whisky from up north. Andrew traded some travelling monks for it last year." She smiled wistfully. "He got three bottles; this is the last one."

"Are you sure you wish to share it with me?"

She shrugged. "Might as well. If the cliff gives way, it'll just go to waste."

"There's a cheery thought," he replied dryly.

With a chuckle, she poured them each a generous dram. Handing Robin a cup, she took a sip from her own. "My concept of 'cheery' is a bit different than most, I expect."

As he sampled the drink, he thought about what she had said. The Hulmes had not needed much help from the gang before, so they had not known her or her husband well. However, they had met in passing a few times, and Robin remembered her as being fairly sunny then. With a sharp sense of humor, to be sure; but with an outlook that would commonly be referred to as "cheery." He knew what had changed her, and knew as well that nothing could make it right.

Bottle in hand, she went over to a chair in front of the hearth and gestured to its mate, and Robin joined her. "Well, life never quite turns out like we expect, does it?" she reflected.

He had to laugh. "Truer words were never spoken."

Realizing to whom she had made the statement, she laughed along with him. "Oh, dear. That is rather an understatement, from your point of view."

"Just a bit." His amusement faded as he considered everything he thought he would have by this point in his life.

Breaking into his thoughts, she asked quietly, "Do you regret it?"

He tossed back the last of his drink and winced against it before answering. "Never. And daily." When she squinted at him in incomprehension, he shrugged, frowning at his empty cup as he heard his own words. He never admitted that, not anymore. Tuck had reminded him of the importance of what he was doing, and he appreciated it. He needed to concentrate on the present, not on the unchangeable past. Not on what he could have had.

Silently, Ellie held out the bottle, offering him a refill. The amount she poured into his cup was double what it had been the first time, and she emptied her own cup before refilling it, as well. "We had the chance to leave, two years ago. Andrew's brother, down in Kent, offered us some of his land. But our lives were here, so we declined." Taking a large swig from her cup, she continued, "If we had gone, there are people here who might have starved without Andrew's help." She held up a hand to stop him from responding to that. "I've told you, I do not blame you. You had something crucial to see to. All I meant was that I understand. We enjoyed our life here, and did something important; so, in that sense, I do not regret our decision to stay. And yet..." She sighed and took another drink.

He did the same. Then, wanting to switch topics a bit but recognizing that she needed to talk about her husband, Robin asked, "What was he like? I never really got to speak with him."

She glanced at him in surprise, and then smiled as she looked back to the fire. "Andrew Hulme was a braggart and a bully."

Now, it was his turn to be surprised. "What?"

She chuckled. "That's what I told him when he first came courting. He was friends with my brother, and they often came back to my family's house drunk off their heads. Inevitably, Andrew would tell a tale of how he bested five men, single-handedly, in a fight at the inn; or that he did not like the look a man gave him, and how he dealt with it."

Robin grinned. "So, how did he win you over, then?"

"It took him awhile," she acknowledged. "He asked me for seven months solid, and even got my brother trying to sell him to me. If he had not been so damned handsome, I probably could have held out 'til the end of time. Finally, I agreed to go for a walk with him, if he would promise to leave me alone after that."

"I take it he did not," joked Robin.

"Oh, but he did!" she laughed. "I had such a lovely time that afternoon, and when we were nearing my home on the way back, I stopped and hinted strongly that he could kiss me, if he liked." She sipped from her cup. "He leaned over, and said, 'Ellie Cross, you agreed to a walk, and that is all you shall get.' Then he winked, and went on to his own home. And I did not see him again for two weeks."

Robin had been enjoying her story, and did not notice that his cup was empty once more, until he went to take a drink from it and came up dry. Ellie picked up the bottle again and topped off her own drink before handing it to him. "So, what happened next?" he prompted.

"When I asked my brother why he had not been around, he reminded me that I had said Andrew should leave me be after our walk. He also said I would have to make it right. So, I did. I marched right over to Andrew's house, knocked on the door, and when he answered it, I kissed him."

His eyebrows shot up and she giggled at the memory; he suspected the whisky had something to do with the sound. Lord knew, he was feeling the effects, and he had to have a better head for spirits than she.

"We held our wedding six weeks later. And I'll tell you what: it turned out he made most of those bragging tales up to impress me. We were married for four years, and a kinder, more gentle-minded man, I never knew."

They were both quiet for a moment, and then Robin raised his cup. "To Andrew," he said softly.

"To Andrew," she agreed, and they both drank. After another minute or so had passed, she said, "Tell me about her."

He started. After what Ellie had just shared, he could hardly refuse, though his instinct was to do so. Polishing off his drink in two, large gulps, he waited to fill the cup back up before speaking. "You never met her?"

"Once or twice, in passing. She was very lovely. Very noble."

He pondered the woman who had consumed his thoughts for the last several months, and who had actively lived in them for most of his life before that. "Lovely" did not begin to describe her. "Noble," on the other hand... "She was what every noblewoman should be: kind, compassionate, strong. Willing to stand up for those who depended on her. Intelligent, and thoughtful.

"And she was beautiful. Gorgeous, in fact." He had never met a woman who affected him as she did. Not on both a physical and an emotional level, and it was the combination of the two that made her so unique. So... necessary.

"Tell me a story about her." When he glanced at Ellie, she smiled. "You just told me things that anybody could have said. Tell me about the Marian you knew."

Everything within him protested, although in a much more muted manner than usual; he silenced that reaction with another long drink of the whisky. Perhaps an older memory would be less painful than something more recent. "When she and Edward arrived here, it was not even a year since my father died. She was almost five years old, and had lost her mother a few months earlier." He had to smile at the memory of Marian as a tiny girl, her hair in braids, and still looking rather babylike. There had been a time when he had imagined a daughter who looked just like her--

That _was_ too painful. He continued his tale in order to distract his mind. "As lord of Locksley, even though I was not much older than she, I went to welcome them. Edward invited me to stay to supper; I cannot imagine what he was thinking, being greeted by a child and dining with two children." He shook his head in amusement. "But he never made me uncomfortable. Somehow, he managed to make me feel respected in my station.

"Marian, on the other hand, did not. She was petulant all through the meal, since she had thought to find a playmate, and instead I was talking to her father; so, she would not speak to me the rest of my visit."

"Not the best start to a future relationship," Ellie noted with a grin. Her words were a bit slurred and her hands not very steady as she poured more liquid into her cup. For himself, Robin had to concentrate when he raised his cup to his lips.

Belatedly remembering to reply, he agreed, "Not at all. But when I had them to dinner the following week, she had learned of my situation and sympathized; in fact, when Edward excused himself, she started talking to me of her mother. She did not notice right away when Edward returned, and he stared at her in astonishment when he heard what she was saying. Apparently, she had refused to speak of Kate since her death. And in fact, I was the only one she would confide in for quite some time."

"Is that why you were betrothed?"

"No, that was not until much later. I was not the most well-behaved young man, and Edward did not particularly like her being associated with me." Ellie giggled again, burping slightly at the end. "But I was not so horrible that he could truly object to our friendship. Still, he would not have welcomed my suit; when I did bring it up to him, when Marian was fourteen, he denied me unless I settled down and maintained respectable behavior for a year. At first, I balked, used to doing as I pleased; yet, when I considered what was at stake, I knew she was worth it. I agreed. And when she was fifteen, he allowed me to propose to her."

Ellie held up a hand. "You're telling me more about her father than you're telling me 'bout her."

He considered that. "I guess I am." Pausing to refill his cup, he took a swig before continuing. "Well, I'll tell you about the proposal, then." It occurred to him that he had never spoken of this to anyone, not even Much; however, the thought was a vague one thanks to the pleasant fog in his head, and therefore easily ignored. "I had Cook make a special luncheon, and set up a picnic in the meadow; and then, I invited Marian for a ride. She thought we would eat when we returned to Knighton, and started saying we should turn back when it got close to midday. Since I was nervous and wanted to surprise her, I did not say that there was food awaiting us-- but could not think of any other excuse. So, I kept telling her that we would turn back soon. Eventually, she grew angry with me, and announced that she was going back, with or without me."

When he paused to take a drink, Ellie asked, "Did she?"

Robin shook his head, blinking for a moment when the movement made him dizzy. "I told her about the picnic, but not the reason for it. She got excited, and we continued toward the meadow. But, I had forgotten to ask anybody to keep an eye on it. Most of the food had been scavenged by animals by the time we arrived."

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "What did you do?"

He suppressed a burp. "I knelt amongst the debris and asked her to marry me."

"And she said yes?"

Smiling once more, he said, "After questioning how I expected to care for her when I failed to do so for a simple meal, reminding me that she was famished, and then scolding me for dirtying my trousers by kneeling in bits of a pudding... yes." She had been magnificent in her ire, and while at the time he had been annoyed that she would go on at him after he had put so much effort into the afternoon, he had also been looking forward to a lifetime of similar moments.

Once, shortly after their betrothal, she had chided him for something (he could no longer recall exactly what) following a meeting of the Council of Nobles. A daughter of another nobleman had overheard the exchange, and approached him afterward. She asked why he would tie himself to a woman who berated him, when he could have his pick of young ladies who would make docile, agreeable wives. As he watched the girl bat her eyelashes, he could not fathom why any man would wish such a boring fate on himself.

"She sounds like a spitfire," Ellie mumbled.

Despite the numbing effects of the whisky, Robin felt a sharp ache in his chest. He threw back the contents of his cup, preferring the burn of the liquor to that of Marian's loss. "She may have been schooled to conceal her passions, but they were always there. They came out most obviously when she was championing the helpless; but, once in awhile, she allowed them out for me. And she let them take over, a bit, that afternoon." Realizing what he had said, he glanced over at Ellie-- and was relieved to see that she was slumped in her chair, her head listing to the side and her drink dangling from her fingers. As he watched, she let out a snore and shifted, unconsciously trying to find a more comfortable position, and dropped her empty cup. Robin pushed to his feet, swaying slightly, but fairly certain he could move her without doing them both an injury. With deliberation, he picked her up and shuffled over to her bed; once there, he managed to lay her down and cover her up. Then, he snagged a second blanket that was folded along the foot of the mattress, and curled up on the small rug in front of the hearth.

Between the warmth of the fire and that of the alcohol, he was soon snoring, as well.


	3. Chapter 3

  
Robin awoke with a start, starting to sober up but still inebriated enough that the headache he was sure to have had not yet begun. He was also completely disoriented for a few crucial moments. Looking around did not help, as it only made his head swim. Laying back and closing his eyes, he waited until he had some semblance of a sense of balance again, and then slowly rolled to his side, to better see where he was.

Ellie Hulme's cottage. That was it. The storm, and the flood; the rabbit, and the whisky. And there was Ellie, herself, on the other side of the room. She was staring up at the ceiling.

"You're awake?" she inquired, without moving.

"I suppose you could call it that."

She seemed to be thinking, and finally said, "For the first three months, I slept right where you are. I couldn't bear to sleep in this bed. And that's when I even slept."

The words left his mouth without his meaning them to. "The waking world is too painful to face, but the minutes before sleep claims you are truly torturous."

Turning her head toward him then, she agreed. "That's exactly it. And beyond that, the bed itself reminded me of so much; not just the obvious, but the things you take for granted. The warmth of the person beside you. Their weight on the mattress. Their scent on the blankets. After four years of that, laying here myself was too cold, and solitary, and bland." She paused, and then asked, "Is it easier or harder, surrounded by your friends? I had invitations from many people to stay with them, but I wasn't sure if that would help. Can you deal with it more easily, when others are sleeping nearby?"

The ache he had felt earlier hit him again. "We never had that opportunity. We were married for..." He trailed off, thinking of their vows when they were tied up in the desert, and then later, when she laid in his arms. "We were married for less than two hours." They had both meant those words the first time they said them, even if he had not given her a ring until the next. Their friends had witnessed their intent, and if God had not, that was His oversight.

Her eyes widened in shock. "Everybody thought... That is to say, we all assumed you'd had some time together, for as long as you were away."

"Most of that time was spent on a ship," he said quietly. "And Marian and I were not on the same ship when we went over."

"So, you never--" Ellie seemed to catch herself, and blessedly did not finish her sentence. "Oh, Robin, I'm so sorry."

He would not mention the number of nights he had lain awake, a litany of regrets parading through his head; the brevity of their union was near the top. But he would never say so, and instead, he shared one truth he had come to realize in recent days. "She was mine, and I was hers. I still am hers. That's enough."

They exchanged a look of understanding, and it occurred to him that in another place and time, in another circumstance, that connection might have led to something more. However, that was not what this bond was about, and they both knew it.

"James Wainwright has asked me if he could come calling," she said abruptly.

Robin had not been expecting that. "What was your answer?"

She sighed, looking back to the ceiling. "That I need to think about it. He's a good man, and it would be nice to have someone to share things with again. And, if the cliff gives way and I manage to survive, I'll be without a home. But... it seems wrong, somehow. As you said, I still am Andrew's." Glancing over at him again, she asked, "What do you think?"

His eyebrows lifted. "That's for you to decide. I would not know what is best for you."

"Best for me," she echoed. "Andrew would want what was best for me." In a small voice, she reflected, "He would not want me to be alone. No matter my objections."

Would Marian want him to finish out life without her? He was not sure. If the situation were reversed, he would ideally want her to pursue happiness in any way she could; but the thought of her with another, after they had pledged themselves to each other, was strange. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a noise outside.

"_Oi! Robin! Ellie!_"

After a second's hesitation, they both flew to their feet-- and Robin promptly staggered, catching himself on a chair, whilst Ellie plopped right back down into a sitting position on her bed. With more caution, they went over to the door and, opening it, glanced out.

"The rain's stopped!" Ellie exclaimed, clutching the doorframe. The sky was still gloomy and the air damp, but in the distance, they could see the late afternoon sun dancing on the treetops, light rays pushing their way through the clouds.

Robin grinned, from where he leaned on the opposite side. "And our rescue is here."

The impromptu river was still present, draining from the higher ground to the north, but had slowed somewhat. On the opposite bank, armed with a couple long boards and a new bundle, were the outlaws. With them, was James Wainwright.

Without the pounding of the rain, everyone was able to be heard with no difficulty. "We tied ropes on the ends of these boards, and brought stakes and a mallet," Tuck called. "We will secure this end, and then toss the mallet and stakes over for you to secure yours."

"Sounds good," replied Robin, finding that the fresh, spring air was clearing his mind nicely.

James stepped forward anxiously. "Ellie, are you all right?"

She hesitated before nodding, although whether that was because of the man or the whisky, Robin could not tell. "I'm fine."

Evidently satisfied, he told her, "Your cousin Ben said you might stay with his family, until the paths are better."

Turning to take stock of her cottage's perch on the cliff, she reluctantly agreed. "Very well."

They stepped back to allow John to drop the planks across, and when Much was pounding the first stake into the ground, Ellie said, "I need to collect my things."

That made Robin remember his borrowed outfit. "Me, too."

Trailing her back into the house, Robin gathered up his still-damp clothes, while Ellie picked up the bundle she had taken with her earlier. As she lifted it, the fabric came unwrapped, and the items inside dropped to the floor. With an exclamation, she started picking them up, and he went to help her. A small piece of linen had fluttered nearer to him, and when he took hold of it, he noticed that it was embroidered.

It was a portrait of Andrew.

Gently handing it back to her, he said, "You did a lovely job. It's an excellent likeness."

"Thank you," she murmured, rubbing her thumb lightly over the dyed wool. Then, with a small smile at him, she turned to the wooden chest, and after some digging, produced another linen square. "I nearly forgot, with everything else. I made this for you a few weeks ago, but I wasn't sure if it was too bold of me once it was done. So, I couldn't decide whether or not to give it to you, and did not see a good opportunity to do so, anyway."

He guessed what it was before accepting it from her, but he was still not prepared for the shock of emotion he felt at seeing Marian's likeness. He tried to find words to express his reaction, but could only repeat Ellie's "thank you" back to her. For someone who had only met Marian in passing a couple of times, she captured her well. The colors were nearly as exquisite as those his wife had possessed, and he wondered how Ellie had captured them. Marian's sapphire gaze seemed to admonish him then, aware that he was intentionally focusing on the mechanics of the piece, rather than the meaning; he struggled with the wordless emotions trying to surge up within himself, attempting to keep them at bay with expressed thoughts.

While he studied the small image, she finished packing the things she wished to take. Matter-of-factly, she said, "You might as well take the leftover food with you. I'm not sure I'll be eating anytime soon."

Blinking, he tore his gaze away from the picture. "You are starting to be a bit green around the edges," he commented, glad to be handed an opportunity for levity.

"It will get you, too, Hood," she joked, then immediately winced at the sound of her own voice.

With their bundles in hand, they made their way back outside. The gang was ready to toss the bundle they had brought, with the stakes and mallet, to Robin. He made quick work of securing the simple bridge, and soon, he and Ellie were on the opposite bank.

Much grabbed him in a hug as he stepped off the boards, and Robin grinned when they had moved apart. Handing Much the oilskin in which the remaining two rabbits were wrapped, he asked, "Are you still hungry?"

"Starving, why?" When Much peeked under the wrapping, he exclaimed in excitement. "Let's go back to the cave right now, and I'll cook these up. I think I have some spices in my pack; I should see what I brought from camp."

Patting him on the shoulder, Robin said, "You go on ahead, and I'll catch you up." He was watching Ellie, who was speaking quietly with James. She caught Robin's eye when the outlaws turned to go, and came over to where he was standing.

"How are you feeling?" he inquired lightly.

"Like I drank half a bottle of whisky," she grumbled. "How are you so chipper?"

In truth, he was starting to feel the devil coming on, and hoped to get back to the makeshift camp before it hit him full force. "I'm Robin Hood," he said in as cocky a manner as he could muster. She rolled her eyes, and while nothing could have made her resemble Marian, the action made him think of the fabric tucked into his belt. But he had dealt with those memories enough today.

Gesturing toward her cottage, he remarked, "Your house has not plummeted to the bottom of the cliff."

"No," she agreed. "It appears I still have my home."

"You're going to Locksley, though?"

She nodded. "Might as well."

He nodded, too. "That's good. That's also one less reason to accept his suit."

Ellie turned and peeked at the wagon maker, who was patiently waiting just out of hearing range. "I think I might consider him, regardless." Turning back to Robin, her lips curved up slightly.

He thought he understood. "It's what Andrew would have wanted?"

She snorted. "Probably not that, exactly; but, yes, in theory. I think so."

Smiling back at her, he responded, "I'm glad for you."

After a pause, she said, "I want you to really think about what Lady Marian would have wanted for you. If she would have wanted you to be alone. Promise me that?"

His instinct was to balk, but he could not. Not after the secrets he had shared with her today. "I promise."

"Good." Patting him on the arm, she rejoined James, and the two set off in the direction of Locksley.

Robin started to follow his friends, nearly out of sight ahead of him on the path into the forest, but he stopped and pulled out the portrait of Marian. Silently, he implored her to give him some sign. What _did_ she want from him?

Feeling a fool, he nonetheless waited for an answer, just in case. When nothing happened, he tucked the linen back into his belt.

He would have to figure it out for himself.


End file.
